by Felice Arena
‘SIMON, YOU LOSER!’ she screamed, at the top of her lungs. Specky sprinted for the front door, laughing his head off.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked his dad, as Specky slipped into the front seat of the car.
‘Nothing, I think Alice was having a bad dream.’ He smirked to himself as he settled in for the drive to the airport.
‘So, dad, I brought my footy along. Hope you don’t mind. Just want to practice a little on my own, since I’ll miss training this week. Will I be able to play football where we’re going? You know, like on a beach or somewhere?’ asked Specky, as he stared at the glowing city-skyline flashing by.
‘Yeah, I’m sure you’ll find a place to kick it around,’ said Specky’s father with a wink, fully aware that Specky was fishing for more information.
When Specky and his dad finally made it to the airport check-in counter all would be revealed.
‘Here you go, Mr Magee,’ said the woman at the desk, as she handed over a couple of boarding passes. ‘Hope you and your son enjoy your flight to Darwin, today. You’ll be boarding from Gate Seven in half an hour. You’ll be meeting a connecting flight at Brisbane airport – the stop-over time will be one hour.’
‘We’re going up North? Unreal!’ said Specky.
‘So, you’re happy we’re going to the Northern Territory?’ asked his dad, relieved that Specky seemed genuinely excited.
‘You bet. Some of the greatest players in the AFL have come from up there – Michael Long, Andrew McLeod, Darryl White and Dean Rioli. Even Nathan Buckley spent some time up there. This is going to be so cool. Can we see some saltwater crocs? What about Kakadu? And can we go fishing for barramundi? And …’
‘Hold on, hold on! I have a few things planned. And by the sounds of it, you’ll probably love it all.’
Specky smiled as they made their way to the departure lounge, imagining the holiday ahead, but while waiting to board their flight, his smile suddenly turned into a look of utter surprise.
‘Oh my God. No way!’ he gasped.
‘What?’ asked Specky’s dad, mystified by the goofy expression plastered across his son’s face.
‘That guy over there.’ Specky pointed to a man wearing dark sunglasses. ‘That’s Michael Voss!’
‘Who?’ Specky shook his head in disbelief at his father’s ignorance, but then quickly realised that his dad still had a lot to learn about Aussie Rules and he shouldn’t be so hard on him.
‘Michael Voss plays for the Brisbane Lions. He’s a champion – a legend. A Brownlow Medallist. He’s also been the captain of the Lions Premierships. He must be heading back up to Brisbane. The Lions played at the G yesterday.’
‘Well, what are you waiting for? Go and ask him for his autograph.’ Specky tried his best to contain his excitement at his father’s bold suggestion.
‘You think? I mean, I hope he doesn’t mind …’
While Specky grappled with whether or not he should approach the Brisbane star, the announcement that his flight was now ready for boarding was made. Michael Voss got up from his seat and walked onto the plane. Specky couldn’t help thinking that he had missed his chance.
‘Don’t worry,’ said his dad. ‘Maybe you can ask him on the plane. Or when we get to Brisbane airport.’
Specky agreed, but during the flight he couldn’t keep himself from peeping over the tops of the seats in front, hoping to catch another glimpse of the AFL champion – even though he was well out of sight, hidden up the front in Business Class.
Specky was just about to take a bite out of a muffin that his mum had packed for him, when he was interrupted by an unfamiliar accent.
‘So, what’s Briz-bayne like?’
Specky turned and found himself face to face with a large American man wearing a very bright Hawaiian shirt. Specky was tightly wedged in between him and his father.
‘Sorry?’ said Specky, not catching the man’s question.
‘I said, what’s Briz-bayne like?’ he repeated. ‘I just love this country of yours.’
Specky glanced back to his father, who raised his eyebrows, suggesting that Specky should politely answer.
‘Um, I haven’t been to Brisbane before. We’re off to Darwin.’
‘That’s crocodile country, right? I’m heading further north after spending a few days in Brizbayne,’ he said, loudly, as if he was talking to a large crowd instead of one person. Specky winced a little.
‘That’s great,’ replied Specky, not really sure what to say next.
‘In fact, I’m dying to see some crocodiles. I love that Crocodile Hunter guy …’ The American man proceeded to do a very bad impersonation of Steve Irwin. Even Specky’s father started chuckling.
The American may have been boisterous, but he was very friendly. He continued to chat to Specky, mainly about his travels. Eventually, the conversation turned to footy.
‘Yeah, you guys are crazy. Wearing no protection. I caught a game at the Emmm, Ceee, Geee last week, or, as you all call it, the Geee. It was fantastic to watch. I love those guys at the goals, the ones that look like they should be working in a deli or something – wearing those funny little white hats, and making those funny hand signs every time a goal is scored.’
The man re-enacted the actions of a goal umpire, almost poking Specky in the eye. Specky found himself explaining the rules and history of the game to the jovial tourist – which he didn’t mind doing. He also mentioned that Michael Voss was on their flight and that he was hoping to get an autograph or even have his picture taken with him, once they got to Brisbane airport.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ asked the American, standing up out of his seat. ‘Let’s go and talk to him, now.’
‘No, it’s okay, really …’ said Specky.
But it was too late. Specky and his dad were forced out of their seats while the tourist edged his way past them, boldly walked up the aisle and waved to get a flight attendant’s attention. Specky blushed with embarrassment, even though he secretly hoped that the American would be able to arrange something.
A few moments later, the flight attendant disappeared into the business class section of the plane, and when she returned, motioned Specky to join them.
‘Go,’ said Specky’s dad, excited for his son. ‘And don’t forget the camera.’
Specky nervously made his way up the aisle of the plane and said ‘G’day’ to the flight attendant. She smiled and led Specky and the American to where Michael Voss was seated. Specky couldn’t believe his luck.
‘Goodday,’ said the American, doing a bad imitation of an Australian accent. ‘My young friend, here,’ he continued, gesturing to Specky, ‘is a huge fan of yours and he was wondering if he could have his picture taken with you.’
‘Sure, no problem,’ replied Michael Voss.
Specky had once read that Michael Voss was one of the friendliest players in the game and was a perfect role model. The article said that he always had time for his fans. Being generous with your time and being a decent person was an important part of being a public figure and great footballer. Specky was thrilled to see that this was true – Michael Voss was more than happy to have his photo taken. Specky had met lots of AFL stars at the Grand Final Super Clinic, and had nearly always been able to get either a photo or a signature – but this would definitely surpass all of them. How many kids got the chance to talk to Michael Voss alone?
Specky handed over his camera to the American, and shyly sat himself next to the Brisbane player.
‘If only Robbo and Danny could see me, now,’ he thought.
‘So what’s your name? You a big Lions fan?’ Michael Voss asked Specky, while the tourist fiddled about with the camera, trying to set up the perfect shot. Michael Voss seemed impressed by Specky’s nickname, but he was confused when Specky told him, in a longwinded way, about his allegiance to five teams. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Specky wished he had simply said he barracked for just the Lions, instead, and for a fleeting moment his mind turned to
Christina.
‘Maybe she’s right, maybe I should just barrack for one team,’ he thought. ‘But which one?’
‘Now, say cheese,’ said the American. ‘Or should I say footy?’
They smiled for the camera, and awkwardly mumbled ‘footy’. Then Michael Voss suggested that the American should take several more photographs, just in case. Specky was so star-struck that he hadn’t heard the announcement that the plane was preparing to land. After using the entire roll of film, Specky thanked the Brownlow Medallist for his time.
‘You’re welcome, mate,’ he responded. ‘Why don’t you sit next to me for the landing? There’s a spare seat here and I’m sure the flight attendants wouldn’t mind.’
Specky couldn’t believe what he was hearing – what a dream come true for any footy fan. The attendant smiled and said that it would be fine, and before he knew it Specky was buckling up his seat belt next to one of the greatest players ever to pull on a pair of boots.
‘I’ll tell your dad you’re staying here,’ said the American, as he headed back to his seat.
Specky fired question after question at the Brisbane Lions skipper, eager to absorb as much as he could about the game. He didn’t even feel the plane’s wheels touch the tarmac, he was listening so intently.
As Specky got up to go, Michael shook his hand and said: ‘You sure know your footy, Specky. In fact you’re a walking football encyclopaedia – you probably know more about my career than I do!’
Grinning from ear to ear, Specky headed back to his father. It had been the best twenty minutes of his life.
Once at Brisbane airport, Specky and his dad farewelled the American and wished him all the best for the rest of his travels.
‘Well, thank you,’ he said. ‘It was a pleasure sitting next to you. I wish you great success with your football. I’m sure, one day, people will be asking to have their picture taken with you.’ And with that, he shook Specky’s hand and went off to look for his luggage.
Specky and his dad had an hour to kill before boarding their next flight for the final leg of the journey.
‘Dad, I’ve got a great idea,’ said Specky, suddenly. ‘Why don’t we get the film developed now – at one of those one-hour processing places? Please? We have enough time. Then I can send a couple of copies to Robbo and Danny. They’ll go nuts over it. Please.’
Specky’s dad happily agreed, knowing that it would make a wonderful start to their trip. But when Specky flipped opened the back of the camera to take out the film, he felt as if someone had knocked the wind right out of him – the camera was empty.
5. top end footy
Specky’s mood for several hours was sombre to say the least. He couldn’t believe that he had forgotten to put film in the camera. And to make it worse, he realised that he had been so caught up in asking Michael Voss a million things, that he had forgotten to ask him the most important question: ‘Can I have your autograph?’ He was so upset that he couldn’t even be bothered to watch the in-flight movie between Brisbane and Darwin. It wasn’t until they had checked into their hotel, had a swim in the pool, and were seated outside having dinner that he felt slightly better.
‘Simon, I really am sorry. That Instamatic camera was well over fifteen years old. Maybe we should look into getting a new one, a digital one, perhaps? That way we won’t get caught in the same predicament ever again,’ said Specky’s father, doing his best to cheer him up.
‘Thanks, Dad, but you don’t have to worry. It was a dumb mistake. I’ll be okay – really. I’m glad we’re here, now.’
And, for the first time in hours, Specky smiled. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the Northern Australian sky was ablaze with a million stars.
Specky totally forgot about the camera episode, over the next few days. He and his father became immersed in their trip. They spent hours swimming in a crystal-clear rock pool underneath a breathtaking waterfall in Litchfield National Park. They checked out the large termite mounds dotted along the Stuart Highway. They explored Kakadu National Park and saw Aboriginal rock art that was thousands of years old. They climbed the Ubirr escarpment and took in one of the most stunning views in the world, overlooking the Nardab flood plain. And they cruised the Yellow River, getting up close to saltwater crocs and bird life – like the sea eagle and great egret.
Later in the week Specky’s dad had to dedicate some time to his work. Specky and his father drove their rental car towards the township of Katherine, about 300 kilometres south of Darwin.
‘So, Dad, what do you have to do exactly?’ asked Specky. He had been so distracted by the holiday part of the trip that he had forgotten to ask his father what sort of business he had in the Northern Territory in the first place.
‘I’m going to see an Aboriginal artist by the name of Cedric Cockatoo. He lives just outside Katherine. I want to exhibit his work back home in the gallery. He’s highly sought-after, so it’s up to me to try and convince him he should show his work with us. I first saw a couple of his works in a catalogue a few years back, they gave me goose bumps. It’s going to be a great honour to meet him.’
‘Oh, that’s cool,’ thought Specky, who felt a sudden wave of pride for his father. He admired the fact that his dad was so passionate about what he did. It never seemed like work, it was more like an adventure. Specky hoped he would have a job he loved that much one day.
‘What?’ asked his dad, catching Specky gazing at him.
‘Nothing,’ smiled Specky. ‘I’m just having a good time, that’s all.’
‘Simon, wake up! We’re here.’
Specky had fallen asleep for the rest of the journey. He gradually opened his eyes to see that they were driving slowly down a dusty road. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Then he saw that they were approaching an outback community, a very small town.
‘You coming?’ asked Specky’s dad, parking the car.
A gush of heat from outside blew into the air-conditioned car as his father opened his door.
‘Sure,’ Specky said, bouncing out from his side.
No one in the community appeared to be overly fussed about their arrival. Everyone continued to go about their day as if Specky and his dad weren’t there. There were a couple of toddlers with sun-bleached hair playing under a running water hose, stamping their feet in the muddy puddles and giggling like it was the best game in the world. A woman was hanging clothes on a wire stretched out between a couple of old wooden posts, and a young girl played with two mixed-breed dogs, throwing a chewed-up tennis ball back and forth.
‘G’day,’ said an Aboriginal man who was approaching Specky and his dad.
‘Hi,’ replied Specky’s dad. ‘Cedric Cockatoo?’
The man nodded and shook his hand.
‘Nice to meet you. I’m David Magee and this is my son, Simon.’
Specky quickly added, ‘But everyone calls me Specky.’
Cedric Cockatoo gave Specky the biggest smile anyone could ever receive. He looked as if he had just been told a great joke.
‘Specky? As in “taking a specky”?’ he asked excitedly.
Specky nodded. It was obvious that Cedric was an Aussie Rules fan.
‘Who do you barrack for?’ he asked.
Specky inhaled deeply and once again found himself explaining how he supported five teams. When Cedric broke out into a huge belly laugh, he made another mental note that he should seriously consider going for just one team.
‘Don’t worry, boy, I’m laughing with you, not at you. I think it’s great you like a lot of teams and that you love footy. I barrack for Essendon. But my boy, Johnny, follows the Kangaroos. There he is over there.’
Specky looked back over his shoulder in the direction Cedric was pointing. About a hundred metres away, Cedric’s son and a group of other boys were in the middle of a friendly footy match. There was a lot of dust being kicked about, so it was difficult for Specky to figure out which one was Johnny. Cedric led him and his dad over to meet them. It took
a few moments before Johnny and the other boys heard Cedric calling out to them. Specky was impressed at how passionately the boys got into their footy. They were all playing barefoot on the hot outback soil, with a ball that appeared to have lost its shape and was lucky to still have some air left in it. It was worn, torn, covered in dust – the brand name looked as if it had rubbed off years ago. But they didn’t seem to care. Specky smiled happily. He was witnessing footy in its rawest form – played for no other reason than the fun of it. He knew he would never forget what he was seeing. He felt light years away from the world of football he knew: his Saturday morning competition, armies of AFL fans piling on and off suburban trains, sell-out crowds at the MCG, television shows and reports on big-dollar football contracts, injuries and scandal, internet club chat rooms, Friday night blockbusters, player tribute dinners, daily newspaper headlines, membership drives, promotional merchandise, and weekly football tips.
‘Specky, this is my son, Johnny.’
Specky and Johnny acknowledged each other with a nod.
‘Cool name,’ Johnny said grinning. He had inherited his father’s infectious smile. He introduced Specky to some of the other boys, who had all stopped playing and stood beside him.
‘This is Maurice, named after Maurice Rioli; Nicky, named after Nicky Winmar; and these guys are Roo, Dipper and Jaka.’
The boys nodded in unison, aware that Specky was totally impressed by the fact that they were all named after current and past AFL legends.
‘Johnny, which footballer are you named after?’ asked Specky, curious to know.
‘No one,’ interjected Cedric. ‘I named him after Johnny Mullah.’
Specky and his dad looked blankly at each other, as if to say, ‘Who?’
‘Johnny Mullah was a star in the first eleven Australian cricket team to tour England,’ Cedric explained. ‘Not many white folk know that the team was actually made up of indigenous players. I thought my Johnny would be a great cricketer, but he’s decided that he’s going to be a footy champion instead,’ he said, proudly smiling back at his son.
